


the heart wants such unimaginable things

by Anonymous



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Multi, NHL Player Chris "Chowder" Chow, Polyamory, falcs!chowder, mostly pre relationship tbh, trans guy chowder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kent hadn’t forgotten how intense Chow was during the last game, or the discussions that they had had about how focused he gets on the ice, but well… It didn’t really register what that would mean for Kent until he sent his first shot at the net and Chow snatched it out of the air like it was easy, then said, pinning him to the ice with his stare, “You’ll have to try harder than that.”Chow on the ice is terrifying.It’s annoyingly hot.





	the heart wants such unimaginable things

**Author's Note:**

> you might ask "why did you write this?" the answer is basically... bitterness. why does kent have at least one shippy fic with every other recurring character in this comic except chowder... i just want equality
> 
> some notes on kent's thought process in this: i dont think that jack hates kent but i think that kent thinks that jack hates him. anyway writing kent's pov is hard but easier than chowder's. kent's mental illness is left pretty vague here bc i didnt want to misrepresent anything. so, kent is still a mess in this but he's less of a mess than at samwell and he's trying. 
> 
> this is 100% an au and i dont expect this to be canon in any way. also i wrote this whole thing in about 6 hours and its the first thing i've written (and finished) in a while so........... there's any major mistakes let me know

Kent knew about it, of course.

He kept track of all the Falconers News. He didn’t watch Falcs TV and he only followed the official team social media accounts, but that was enough to keep an eye out.

He’d asked his therapist if it was still weird and obsessive to want to check on the team that Jack was on. She asked him in return if he was still trying to get Jack back, if he wanted to use the information that he got through the official team sites to hurt Jack or manipulate him, or if he was just doing it because he didn’t have other ways to get updates about someone he still cared about.

Kent kinda hated when she turned his own questions back on him like that.

But he did admit that she was right. Even if it felt like he was breaking some rule, it was his own personal rules, not ones that Jack had set.

Getting Jack hadn’t been an answer for years. Honestly, Kent had mostly given up on that dream by the second time that he confronted Jack at Samwell. That fight was one last ditch effort, one that had completely and totally backfired.

After that, Jack had never told Kent specially to avoid him, but Kent thought it was implied in the line of Jack’s shoulders every time they met on the ice.

They still hadn’t really talked since that last fight, only really interacting to exchanging pleasantries when forced to by circumstance. Kent was a little more thankful than maybe he should be that he and Jack weren’t in the same division. It was easier to not give into the temptation to try to talk to Jack when they rarely even saw each other.

Kent had never even apologized for the shit he’d said before. He wanted to, but it had taken him so long to stop being angry, and by then, he assumed that the best apology would be to just leave Jack alone like he wanted. His therapist didn’t really agree, reminding him that communication was important and leaving things like that could only let issues fester but… It wasn’t like Kent was planning on trying to befriend Jack anymore.

He still missed Jack. He probably always would. But Kent didn’t know if he could be friend with Jack. So many of his worst emotions were tied up in the person that he had become after Jack almost died and then shut him out. Kent didn’t trust himself not to become the person that he had been when he went to Samwell again. Not if Jack was involved.

Plus, he didn’t want to find out if Jack even cared enough about him to agree to try to be friends. Jack had rejected him so many times already. Kent didn’t want to go through that pain again. If Jack hated Kent for the shit that he said, Kent would rather accept it and deal than try to fix something that was so fucked up that he didn’t even know where to begin fixing it.

So, instead, Kent followed the Falcs social media.

Jack might fucking hate him or whatever, but at least every time that the Falcs posted another message about supporting LGBT+ players or reposted the selfie Jack took with his boyfriend, or fans made another comment about how important Jack’s coming out was to them, he knew Jack was supported. Every time he checked his feed and the team had proven yet again that Jack had made the right choice, that Jack was safe and happy and taken care of and not dying on a bathroom floor, Kent felt like he could breathe just a little easier.

Maybe Kent was a little obsessed with keeping up with news about the Falcs. Whatever. He wasn’t going to do anything about it. He just wanted to know.

What this all meant is that he definitely saw the article about the Falcs signing Chris Chow, the first trans guy to play in the NHL.

He remembered recognizing the dude from that fucking party, feeling that little burst of relief that Jack was on a good team that would keep him protected from the shittiest parts of the league, and then going back to the rest of this day.

The next time he thought about it again was that October, at the first Aces vs Falcs game, when number 45 on the Falcs tripped him and he skidded to the halt right in front of the Falcs net.

Snowy was out for a month due to a concussion, and the coaches had brought in Chow as the new starter. Kent vaguely recalled hearing about Chow’s big NHL debut a few weeks ago, since everyone had been so excited that he had nearly got a shutout his first game.

Staring up at Chow from his spot splayed out on the blue paint, Kent was mostly thinking about how threatening goalies could be when you got in their way. Chow narrowed his eyes at him from behind his goalie mask and poked his leg with his stick. “Get out of my net,” he said, his voice deeper than what Kent had expected from his youthful face, and the curl of a threat underlying his words was enough to get Kent moving quickly.

Kent scrambled up, and spun away, ignoring the heat of Mashkov’s glare. He skated back to the bench, his shift over.

Chow was kinda fucking terrifying on the ice.

 

 

When Kent ran into Chow in the hallways after the game, he expected to be given the cold shoulder, at the very least. The Aces had scraped together a tough victory after all, and part of that had been due to Kent’s breakaway at the end of the third.

Instead what he got was Chow doing a double take, eyes almost comically large, before he launched into a greeting that was so loud and bright that Kent felt like he might be getting emotional whiplash trying to compare this guy to the goalie from the game.

“Wow! Kent Parson! Hi! I know we met before, maybe you don’t remember, it’s okay if you don’t, but it was so cool to play against you! I wish that we’d won of course, but that was a really good goal! I knew it’d be hard to stop your shots but I still wasn’t really prepared.” Chow juggled his phone and bag around to free up his hand to hold out.

Kent shook it, feeling surprised and distinctly amused. He’d gotten these kinds of awe-struck, excited greetings before, but usually not right after his team just won the game. “Yeah well, I honestly thought you might catch that one. You’re pretty terrifying out there.”

“Yeah, my teammates have said that,” Chow replied. “I just get really focused, you know?”

Kent nodded, “Yeah.”

Chow smiled, and Kent ruthlessly shoved down the part of him that wanted to gush over how cute it was. Yeah sure, Chow was fucking attractive, and maybe he had dark hair and pretty eyes and was a little bit taller than Kent, but he was lankier than Kent’s usual type, and he had a cute girlfriend, and also he’s a hockey player so, in general, thinking about his attractiveness was a line of thought that Kent would prefer to avoid.

Kent registered Chow asking about fun things to do in Vegas that wouldn’t get him in trouble or make him miss curfew, and Kent recommended a bar that the Aces frequented that was far enough from the Strip to not get overrun by tourists.

Chow offered him one last parting smile and broke away to hop on the team bus back to the hotel.

Kent noted that despite the enthusiastic greeting, Chow hadn’t been nearly as awe-struck and nervous as Kent had initially assumed he would be.

 

That night, when Scraps texted him about coming out to get the cost recent call-up, who got brought in to fill out the third line while Scotty was out with a twisted ankle, wasted, Kent agreed to join them, remembering vaguely that Chow might be there as well.  

Kent didn’t see any Falconers blue at the bar and ignored the little curl of disappointment that he felt. The few Aces who had come took over a booth, but it didn’t take long before Scraps had decided that his new mission was to get the new guy laid, and they were off to charm a nearby group of women. Kent wandered over to sit at the bar, figuring that while he was out and mostly out of the eyes of his teammates, he’d indulge in a drink that didn’t taste like shit.

He wasn’t expecting a warm body to drop into the seat next to him, but when he looked over and saw Chow smiling a way that Kent didn’t know how to quantify, he didn’t mind. Chow definitely wasn’t waring Falconers merch. Instead, he was wearing a bright turquoise Sharks hoodie and Kent had to raise an eyebrow at the choice to wear Sharks gear while in the hometown of one of their biggest rivals.

“I didn’t think that you’d be here too!” Chow said. He looked... surprisingly excited to get the opportunity to hang out with Kent. Kent knew that he was like, a big deal, and plenty of young players wanted to get the chance to get to know him, but Kent had kinda figured that between Jack, Mashov and a couple other Falconers, Chow would have picked up that his team didn’t like Kent very much.  

Nothing about Chow’s wide smile seemed faked.

Well, Kent wasn’t about to be the dick here.

Chow was... consistently enthusiastic. Kent wasn’t sure if it was strange or refreshing to talk to a guy who was so _open_ as Chow. He talked easily about his love for the Sharks, his conflicting desires for the Falconers and the Sharks to win, how he’d stayed in touch with everyone from Samwell and how it was “so cool to play with Jack again! I only played with him for a year, and the NHL is so different, but it’s still similar you know?”

Chow paused after that and Kent had a brief moment of panic about what Chow could read on his face as he watched Chow go quiet and look more solemn than he’d been the whole conversation. “Guess it’s been a long time since you got to play on the same team as Jack, huh?”

Kent breathed out, feeling old aches twinge. “Yeah, it has.”

Chow gave him an understanding nod. There was a silence that neither of them seemed to be in a rush to fill. The heaviness of the moment was weirdly satisfying, and Kent jolted a little when Chow spoke. “Hey, you have a cat, right? Are they hard to take care of? I want to get one, but I’m gone so much, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

Kent blinked at the topic change. “Uh, yeah. I’ve had Purrs for a while now…”

What started off as actual sharing of advice about cat ownership quickly devolved into Chow cooing over Kent’s pictures of Purrs.

“Do you remember,” Chow said, still staring at one picture of Purrs wearing a tiny Aces jersey, “a few years ago, that black cat got into the Sharks arena and it was all over the news? I was obsessed with that cat for a little while. I thought it would be so cool to have a cat that had been on Sharks ice. Like a lucky cat, you know? I tried to convince my teammates to let me have a cat in the house. It didn’t work.” He handed Kent his phone back, smiling warmly. Kent couldn’t help but stare.

“Marleau adopted that cat, so I guess I’ll have to find a different cat. I think a black cat would be good though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “Black cats don’t get enough love.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Chowder?” a voice called, and Kent and Chow both glanced over to see Mashkov heading towards the bar.

“Hey Tater!” Chowder called. “Parse and I were talking about cats!”

Mashkov raised an eyebrow, “Is almost curfew. Coming back to hotel?”

Chow blinked and glanced at the screen of his phone. “Shit, it is almost curfew. See you later, Parse!” He slid out of his chair, offering Kent one last parting smile. Kent gave a lazy wave as the two headed out, then drained the rest of his drink and went home.

 

 

Three days later, Kent woke up to Purrs’ tail in his mouth, and an DM on Twitter from Chow. It consisted of a selfie of Chow, with a young black cat climbing on his shoulders. Chow added,

_Look at him!! I have to take him home!_

_His name was already Ember and I didn’t want to confuse him by changing it but also there are better black cat names…_

_Thanks for the tips about getting a cat sitter! I think I found a good one!_

Kent blinked blearily at the phone until he finally wakes up enough to read it properly. Then he opened the camera, snapped a pic of himself giving Chow a thumbs-up, Purrs still draped across the pillow above his head. He sent it to Chow, saying,

_cute. let me know if u need any other help w deciding on beds or food or anything like that_

After practice, he scrolled through his notifications and paused at the little message from Chow.

_I will!!_

 

 

Chow kept messaging him. It started off small, sending pictures back and forth of their cats, the kind of messy, blurry photos that Kent wasn’t willing to put on Purrs’s carefully cultivated Instagram. But it didn’t take long before Chow was sending him series of messages about his own practices and games, the new book he just read, cute things his new cat had done, what he did with his girlfriend that week, updates about some continuing feud between two of his college teammates and stories about the Falconers.

It’s a lot. Not just in pure numbers but… Kent hadn’t talked this much with anyone except Troy and Scraps in years.

Chow didn’t seem to mind that it took much longer for Kent to start sharing anything personal, just kept being himself, easy and warm and inviting until Kent felt com comfortable talking to him that it was easy to share things he hadn’t told anyone else before.

(Sometimes, it was so hard not to spill confessions about his sexuality, or his lack of a real dating life. He typed them out, debated with himself about sending the messages, and then deleted them, several times over. There are so many things that he has spent so long hiding that he still can't imagine actually telling anyone.)

 

 

Before the second Aces vs Falcs game, Chow caught him on the way into the locker room and asked him to come hang with “a few friends” after the game, and Kent found himself saying yes, even though this is Providence and if Jack is there… well. Kent hoped that Jack wouldn’t be there, for all of their sakes.  

Playing against Chow is strange.

Kent hadn’t forgotten how intense Chow was during the last game, or the discussions that they had had about how focused he gets on the ice, but well… It didn’t really register what that would mean for Kent until he sent his first shot at the net and Chow snatched it out of the air like it was _easy_ , then said, pinning him to the ice with his stare, “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

The glare that Chow levels on him throughout the entire game is never-wracking and completely void of the friendly cheer that Kent is so used to. He freezes in the middle of his celly after his second goal when he meets Chow’s eyes.

Chow on the ice is terrifying.

It’s annoyingly hot.

 

After, he waited outside the arena until Chow hurried out and lead him over to his car. Chow was already talking by the time he got to Kent. He seemed frustrated about the game, mentioning how he felt like he didn’t do as well as he’d like since he almost let Kent get a hat trick, while also trying to console himself by reminding himself that the Falcs still won.

“It’s your fault that I tried so hard to get shots past you,” Kent finally said once Chow has let it all out. He’d rested his head against the window of the passenger side door, body turned inwards to look at Chow. Chow looked over, confused. Kent licks his lips, feeling worn, but surprisingly upbeat after losing a game. “You told me that I’d have to try harder. When you caught my shorthanded shot back in the first.”

Chow narrowed his eyes. “I did?”

“Yeah.” Kent let that sit for a moment before he added, “I figured I’d better rise up to the challenge. You did pretty fucking amazing. I couldn’t believe that you stopped that last one. Thought I’d managed to get a hat trick.” Honestly, that last save might be making its way into Kent’s wet dreams if he’s not careful.

Chow smiled. It wasn’t as wide as his smiles usually are, but it’s warm. The air felt heavy and thick, and Kent can’t help but think about how long it’s been since he wanted to start up a friendly competition with another player. Chow is an amazing goalie, and, playing against him, Kent had something to prove to someone who was actually watching. He hadn’t even been thinking about Jack during the game. Just about trying to get the puck past Chow.

“Guess I was good competition, huh?” Chow said, the lines of tension in his shoulder finally gone. His smile twitched up into more of a smirk for a moment, and the mischievous tilt of it reminded Kent distinctly of the glint in the goalie’s eye under the cover of his mask.

 

Chow led him into his apartment and Kent didn’t know what to do with the fact that the only other people there are Chow’s girlfriend and one of the guys from Samwell.

“I thought,” Chow said, looking playfully serious, “that we could watch _The Princess Bride_ and get drunk.”

“Hell yeah,” the guy replied, putting down his phone and looking up in time to meet Kent’s eyes. “Oh shit. Parson, what’s up?” he added, holding his hand out. “I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Derek Nurse. Call me Nursey, yeah?”

“Hey,” Kent shook his hand. “I remember taking pictures but honestly names escaped me. Wasn’t there a third guy when I took pictures with you? Some redhead?”

“That would be Dex,” Chow replied, wandering back into the living room with a bottle of liquor and a six pack. “He’s back in Maine right now. Which is probably good because otherwise there’d be a lot more bickering going on in here right now.”

“Hey now,” Nursey said drily, taking a beer and cracking it open. “Dex and I have mostly resolved our issues.”

“You also don’t live in the same room anymore,” Caitlin said, giving Kent a wave from her perch on the couch.

“True.”

Kent grabbed a beer. “So, Princess Bride?” he asked, trying not to think about the easy intimacy of their movements and the way that there was only so much space in this apartment’s living room. He sat down in the only other seat, a worn armchair that gave him a polite distance from what was turning into a puddle pile on the couch.  

 

Partway through the movie, Nursey got up and paused to press kisses onto both Chow and Caitlin’s cheeks as he did. Kent glanced over when the movement distracted him from the movie and couldn’t do anything but stare.  

“Oh,” Chow said after a second, catching sight of his gaze. “Sorry. I was going to lead with that but then I forgot. Nursey is our boyfriend.”

Kent blinked. He took a sip of beer to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Yeah?” he said, trying for easy and not sure he succeeded, “like uh, a polyamory kind of thing?”

“Yeah. We don’t like hiding it, because it’s been the three of us for a while now, but the media and everything else has been shitty enough about me being trans, so we didn’t really want to have to explain our relationship to the whole world too, you know?”

Kent nodded. He understood it better than they realized. He has questions, so many fucking questions about how they make that work, but he kept quiet, deciding to ask sometime when it’s not the only time this year that he might actually see Chow in person.

Chow’s cat provided a convenient distraction from his curiosity, apparently drawn out by the quiet conversation. Ember sniffed Kent’s leg delicately, the black cat maintaining a cautious distance. Kent leaned over to offer his hand and let him rub his cheek across the back of his hand.  It was impossible not to smile at the cute cat leaning into his fingers and he let himself focus on Ember for a few long minutes.

When he looked up again, Chow was watching him with a gentle, warm smile.

 

A few hours later and Chow was dropping Kent off at his hotel. Reaching to open the door, Kent paused and finally said, “Thanks for telling me about Nursey. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”

Chow nodded and said, “I didn’t think you would.”

Kent’s mouth felt dry and he says, without thinking, “How come?”

They met each other eyes, and Kent felt frozen and trapped, waiting for some kind of judgment. Chow tilted his head, thoughtful, and after a moment he explained, “You never acted like I was any different from any other guy that you play against.”

Kent breathed in, shaky and short.

Chow’s eyes cleared a little, and he gave Kent another patient smile. “Besides, you always supported Jack and the other guys who came out. You never say the kind of shit that other guys do. And you’re my friend. I trust you.”

Kent breathed out. His heart was pounding so hard that he wondered faintly how it hadn’t broken through his ribs yet. “Thank you. For trusting me. Just… thanks, Chow.”

Chow made a face and he shook his head, “Call me Chowder or Chris, okay? We’re friends.”

“Yeah. I will.” Kent ran his hand over his hair, suddenly unable to meet Chris’s eyes. “Talk to you later. Chris.”

“Bye!” Chris called out as Kent slid out of the car, and Kent couldn’t help but wave.

When Kent got back to his room, he followed Nursey and Caitlin back on twitter.

 

 

By the time that the off-season rolled around, and Kent had made it through his requite post-playoffs slump, Kent was very strictly _not thinking_ about polyamory and what that could mean in the context of a very cute goalie who now knew him better than anyone since Jack.

He wasn’t thinking about it, especially when Chris asks to visit him in June.

He wasn’t thinking about it when as soon as Chris arrived in Vegas, he spent several minutes laying on the floor of Kent’s penthouse apartment, trying to tempt Purrs to come closer while Kent’s grump of a cat refused to trust this strange new person.

He wasn’t thinking about it when Chris finally lured Purrs closer and the cat curled up in his lap, with Chris looking so pleased.

He was definitely _not_ thinking about it when Chris, flushed red after just two beers, leaned on his shoulder as he laughed along with the mindless reality tv show that Kent had put on to try to distract himself.  

Chris practically fell asleep on his shoulder and Kent found himself simultaneously so fucking happy and so fucking worried that he felt like his stomach twisted in on itself.

 

The next afternoon, Chris said, “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Kent’s heart was in his throat. Chris was looking at him like he did while he was in goal, and seeing it off the ice was disorienting and worrying. There was something in his eyes that made Kent feel like Chris just knew everything about him, like he could see all the way down to Kent’s core just by looking at him.

Kent felt so sure in that moment that Chris was about to tear him apart, that Chris could see who Kent really was and was about to tell him much he hated him.

So, he wasn’t really expecting it when Chris asked, “Do you want to date me?”

“Sorry?” he choked out.

“Do you want to date me? It’s okay if you don’t. I like you a lot, and in my experience, it’s better to talk about this kind of thing rather than try to hide it. I wasn’t sure, but I thought that you might be interested too.”

Kent was still staring at Chris and it’s… Chris was so matter-of-fact about asking. Kent couldn’t remember if anyone’s ever been this direct before. “Oh,” he said, finding himself stalling.

He had been trying not to think about it because it could go so wrong, they could end up filled with hate and trying to hurt each other but still having to meet on the ice at least twice a year and act like nothing ever happened and Kent- Kent can’t fucking stand the idea.

“I’m not a great person,” he blurted out. “I’m not really. I hurt people and push them away. I’ve never even had a real relationship and I’ve still messed every person I’ve ever cared about.”

“I don’t think that you’re a bad person,” Chris said, expression hardly shifting, still watching Kent with that open, earnest face and part of Kent wanted to hate him for it because he doesn’t deserve this, could never deserve someone like Chris.

“The last person I loved hates me. I was fucking horrible to him.”

“Maybe that’s true. But I trust you.”

Kent opened his mouth, trying to choke out something that would convince Chris that this was a terrible idea, that he shouldn’t want Kent, but he couldn’t force himself to say the words. And he knew better than to let the poison in his chest out. If he wanted to, he could scare Chris away, and say the most horrible things, but his therapist’s voice echoed in his head, talking about making the choice not to push everyone away, and Kent swallowed harshly.

“Kent,” Chris said, reaching out to press his hand to Kent’s arm, “Listen. Whatever’s wrong, whatever is making you think that you’re don’t deserve this, I doubt that it’s true. I’ve heard stuff like this before, you know. Nursey has depression, he’s had it the whole time I’ve know him. And he was so sure when we started dating that he’d drag me down, that he’d hurt me or be a terrible partner. Things aren’t perfect, but none of things he feared happened. He’s good for me. Things can be hard for him, so I help him, and in return, he finds ways to support me, even when it’s tough. That’s all I need from anyone I date. That’s all I want from you. To care for each other and support each other as best we can. I know that you can do that. So… don’t say no just because you’re scared that you’re not good enough, okay?”

Kent gave into the temptation to touch, leaning forward until his nose was pressed into Chris’s collarbone and he no longer had to meet those eyes that still looked like they saw so much of him. He breathed in deeply, curled his fingers into Chris’s shirt, felt Chris reach up and pull him closer. “I want to be with you,” he said quietly into Chris’s shirt. “I’m so fucking scared because last time – last time I fucked up so much, and I don’t want to do that again.  There’s some stuff I need to tell you before we commit to this, and I need to talk to my therapist, but I want to. I do.”

“Okay,” Chris said, still holding him gently. “We can make this work. I promise.”  His fingers skimmed up, gliding through Kent’s hair before sliding back down to rest at the base of his neck.

Kent closed his eyes and breathed, a little burst of something that felt like hope burning in his chest.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> bonus glimpse into chowder's pov: after chowder talks to kent in the bar for like 3 hours, he goes back to his room and tells cait about how he totally flirted with kent parson and he's like, pretty sure kent flirted back. and she's like 'wow good job bb he's hot go for it' and that's how it all happened


End file.
